Silent Storm
by rhead-a-holyc
Summary: He destroyed everything he touched. He watched everything burn until the only thing left was ashes. Usually it was of someone else. Tom/Harry. Oneshot.


**Camp Potter II [First Aid – storm, ashes, reject]**

**Silent Storm**

The wind outside raged into a fierce storm, angrily expressing its fury at some unknown entity that had done it wrong. Its fury was visibly startling everyone it came into contact with.

There should be a similar storm raging within him. He should feel hurt, angry, _anything_.

He should be shouting, screaming, snarling angry. He should be throwing breakable things around, his magic should be running untamed around him, he should be showing some kind of emotion.

He wasn't. He was numb.

There was nothing passing through his mind. No thoughts. No emotions. Absolutely nothing.

He felt blank, like a newly cleaned sheet of parchment. The past was still etched into his mind, but was invisible unless looked at carefully, under a specific type of light at just the right angle.

He could try and say that he wished none of it had happened, that the first smile they had exchanged had never taken place and all the memories they had were only a figment of his imagination but he would be lying to himself if he did.

He could say he wished to set fire to all the memories he held on to and watch as their ashes disappeared with the wind, but he couldn't. Those memories were the best he had. They were the things that had made him who he was, and with everything he had lost that was all he had left.

He wanted the reminder of everything he had been through. He wanted the memory of how it felt to be utterly happy, even as they begin to fade with time. He wanted the memories to be preserved carefully in a crystal case so time could not snatch them from his very mind.

He wished he could hold on to the people he had met, the places he had been to and the friends he had made with Harry by his side, but it wasn't the same. They were all part of Harry's world. A world he was no longer a part of, a world where he was no longer anything more than an onlooker hoping they could be welcomed through some miracle of fate.

His miracle had come and passed. He had allowed it to slip through his fingers like sand.

He could try and reject the part he had played in the unfortunate story, but the reality was painfully clear. He could not lie about something when the facts were obvious and visible to anyone who bothered to look.

He had pushed too much, too far. He had wanted too much. He had been greedy for more of what he never had.

Harry hadn't said anything the last time they had seen each other, but he had no reason to. His silence spoke volumes on how he felt. The looks Harry's friend's had given him told him exactly how unwanted he was at that moment. Their eyes told him they would be protect Harry from him using whatever means necessary.

It was laughable to think that he had once been the one to protect Harry like they were. He had once been the one that had protected Harry from the harsh words of others, yet he had not been able to protect Harry from the bitterness that still lingered within himself from a childhood he would never wish on anyone.

Harry had understood. He had been the only person who had understood.

He wouldn't be surprised if Harry didn't hold his actions against him or, as atrocious as if would sound, even blame himself for what had happened between them.

Harry was simply like that.

Kind, caring, gentle, selfless, and everything he never deserved to have, especially not for as long as he did. He was sure there were people much more worthy of Harry than he was, yet Harry had somehow chosen him

Merlin, he never deserved to have anyone to care about him with the way he had treated other people. Comparing Harry to other people made everyone seem bad, comparing Harry to him made him seem like the devil, or worse. He should never have been forgiven by anyone. He didn't deserve it. He couldn't even bring himself to forgive him, he couldn't even bring himself to think about everything he had done on a good day. He didn't even give himself a chance to try and fix at least some of what he had done.

Harry had. Harry had given him a chance. Harry had given him a chance at happiness, and love, and a new life with people who cared about _him, _things he had dreamed feverishly of ever since he could remember.

He had just thrown it away just like he had blamed other people of doing when he was a child, just like he had always saw nothing but the worst in other people, just like he always felt the world was against him.

He had found one person who had been with him, who had supported him.

And what did he do with that?

He destroyed it, like he was so very used to doing.

He destroyed everything he touched. He watched everything burn until the only thing left was ashes. Usually it was of someone else.

But this time, this time it was his own ashes that were flying around him, finding any way to escape the hell of his own creation.

He wondered if this was how the others had felt when they had seen their entire world falling at their feet. There had been so many they had all blended into one blurred face of pain. He had thoughtlessly destroyed so many other people during his life, but he had never thought there would ever be anyone with the ability to destroy the cold, steel world he had created around the sense of abandonment he had felt in his childhood.

The steel had crumbled and he had never felt so vulnerable in his life.

The silence that had once been so golden was nothing more than rusty metal.


End file.
